


Coy

by lockheed_london



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas likes to make Martin blush during sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coy

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt on the Cabin Pressure meme on Dreamwidth:  
> http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=11559137#cmt11559137
> 
> Thanks to the OP for such a good prompt!

Douglas has always been a talker during sex. He can’t help it; it’s never been a conscious, considered decision, it just spills out. He wants his partners to have a good time, and part of that is ensuring that they know how desirable he finds them and how much of his enjoyment derives from giving _them_ pleasure.

The first time he and Martin slept together had faded into a blur in Douglas’ mind; a tangled sense-memory of the warmth of Martin’s skin, Martin’s mouth smearing sloppy, passionate kisses across his jaw, and the thick, solid heft of Martin’s cock in his hand as Martin whimpered in his ear. They’d been out for dinner in Granada, and Martin hadn’t had anything like enough sangria to get him drunk or prevent him from flying the next day, but just enough to lower his inhibitions.

His face the next morning, upon finding himself naked in Douglas’ bed, would have been almost funny, had Douglas not been concerned that this presaged a wealth of second thoughts. But when Douglas rested a cautious hand on Martin’s bare shoulder Martin’s answering smile – soft and hesitant but happy – had been one of the loveliest things Douglas had ever seen.

Sex isn’t new to Martin, that much Douglas has managed to extract from him, but his number of partners and general personality are such that he’s never progressed much beyond the terribly self-conscious stage. If Douglas had had to place a bet, in fact, on how Martin would be in bed, then he’d have been moderately pleased to see that he was right on every single count.

Martin’s tastes run fairly tame. Sex is a sedate, under-the-covers-with-the-lights-out affair for him; he’ll always go along with things when Douglas brushes his thumb across Martin’s lower lip and murmurs ‘I want to fuck you this evening,’ but he never initiates so much as a kiss, much less expresses a preference over what they do.

After a few weeks Douglas realises that that’s not entirely true; Martin’s come-ons are there but they’re very subtle, real blink-and-miss-it things. A certain tilt to his head when he talks to Douglas; the way he’ll let his glance linger just a tiny bit too long on Douglas’ mouth; letting his fingers brush Douglas’ when he passes him something… they’re so small, as though Martin isn’t entirely sure yet that Douglas isn’t going to turn around and reject him and so is limiting himself to tiny, barely noticeable things that can be laughed off as a misunderstanding.

Much sexier are the come-ons he’s not even aware he’s making.

The first few months with a new sexual partner are a dizzying rush of endorphins, Douglas knows. It’s barely possibly to stop thinking about them – crucially, about _sex_ with them – with each revealed facet having the power to utterly captivate. Martin is no exception. Douglas watches him doing the paperwork and knows that when Martin stops writing and stares vaguely at the sheet before him then he’s not at a loss for what to put; the idea is laughable that _Martin_ could ever be unsure of an answer pertaining to aviation.

No.

Douglas knows, from the way Martin’s grip tightens on his pen and his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip and his knees twitch slightly further apart, that Martin is remembering the last time Douglas gave him a blowjob. And if Martin shifts forward in his seat and sits up straight, perhaps arching his back just so, that’s he’s thinking of Douglas fucking him, since that particular tilt to his hips is exactly the same one he has when he’s sitting astride Douglas’ hips, with Douglas buried inside him and their hands twined tightly together.

At such moments, if Carolyn or Arthur is there, Douglas will gently clear his throat or remark on something to indirectly remind Martin of where he is. But if they’re alone then he’ll walk around to stand behind Martin’s chair and lean down to read the paperwork over his shoulder, breathing on the tip of his ear and watching Martin start guiltily.

‘What were you thinking about?’ Douglas will press, even though it’s perfectly clear, just for the pleasure of hearing Martin say it.

But Martin’s eyes will slide away and he’ll mutter ‘Nothing,’ and Douglas will have to steal a kiss from him at the sight of him sitting there flushed and distracted and more than a little aroused.

Douglas isn’t after anything too blatant: to tell the truth he’d be frankly shocked if Martin turned around and said ‘Sucking you off,’ or ‘That time you had two fingers in me and I was riding them while wishing it was your cock.’ But Martin won’t even venture anything as comparatively innocent as ‘Last night’ or ‘This morning’ or even ‘Italy, last week,’ and at last Douglas starts to plan.

***

He puts his plan into effect on their next trip. In the sanctuary of his hotel room Douglas kisses Martin until Martin is giddy and grinning at Douglas, their hands colliding on Martin’s shirt buttons, and he tumbles Martin down onto the bed while Martin is still trying to loosen his cuffs.

‘Douglas!’ But Martin is laughing so Douglas ignores the attempted reproof in favour of loosening Martin’s laces and pulling his shoes off. ‘I’m going as fast as I… look, you could wait, just for a moment–’

‘No,’ Douglas says, getting onto the bed beside Martin and pressing him back into the pillows for a kiss. ‘No, I don’t think I can.’

Between them they slide Martin’s shirt off his shoulders and Douglas drops it over the side of the bed, ignoring his comments about the state of the hotel carpet, and tucks his face against Martin’s throat. He presses a thumb against one of Martin’s nipples and Martin yanks Douglas’ shirt roughly out of his trousers, moaning a little in his throat.

‘Tonight,’ Douglas says, nuzzling kisses against Martin’s pulse point – to Martin’s enthusiastic approval, if his noises are anything to go by, ‘I want you to tell me exactly what you want.’

Martin’s noises lessen and stop, and his hands slacken on Douglas’ shirt.

‘How do you mean?’ he says, after a pause. He sounds more puzzled than turned on but, undeterred, Douglas lifts his head to look down into Martin’s face. Martin’s teeth are worrying at his lower lip in a familiar nervous tell, and Douglas lowers his voice to his best seductive purr and says ‘I’m prepared to do anything you want me to. Anything at all. But–’ he presses a brief kiss to Martin’s lush mouth, ‘–you’re going to have to ask me for it.’

‘I… well.’ Martin’s hands free themselves from Douglas’ shirt and he scratches at an eyebrow. ‘You know.’ He rests them awkwardly on his stomach.

Douglas props his head up on one hand and lets the other rest low down on Martin’s stomach, fingertips teasing the trail of hair leading down from his navel until they just dip below his belt buckle.

‘Assume I don’t.’

‘I…’ Martin waves a hand vaguely, in a gesture that manages to encompass the pair of them lying half-tangled together, Martin bare from the waist up and Douglas’ shirt pulled half-off him. ‘I thought we could…’ Martin clears his throat. ‘You know.’

Douglas can sense Martin’s enthusiasm cooling from word to word, and so he kisses Martin again in encouragement and murmurs ‘Go on.’

‘I… want you.’ Martin’s voice is strained, his pulse rabbit-quick in the hollow of his throat.

‘Mmm.’ Douglas rewards him with another kiss, and says ‘How do you want me? Just lying here like this all evening?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Martin exclaims, sounding more frustrated than aroused by now. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you _know_ what I mean.’

Perhaps he’s pushed far enough for one night, Martin is new at this after all. ‘Martin–’

‘I… look, Douglas.’ Martin sits up, dislodging Douglas’ hand. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this.’

‘Martin–’

‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ Martin says tersely, sliding off the bed and quickly retrieving his shirt. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t– Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Wait–’

But Douglas’ only reply is the click of the door as Martin – shirt half-buttoned and shoes clutched to his chest – flees.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Douglas growls, quickly doing up his own shirt and tucking it back in. He has to give himself a minute to calm down before walking out into the corridor; he doesn’t want to make to _too_ obvious what he’s been doing, never mind that the corridors will be almost empty at this time of night.

He steals along the corridor and taps on Martin’s door. There’s no reply but Martin would hardly go anywhere _but_ there after bolting from Douglas’ room and so Douglas pitches his voice low, intending it to carry just through the door and no farther, and says ‘Martin? Look, I know you’re in there, please open the door so I can speak to you.’

Unfortunately Martin’s room is opposite Carolyn’s and the door behind Douglas opens.

‘Douglas?’

Carolyn’s voice is sharp and Douglas closes his eyes briefly and sighs before turning around.

‘What on _earth_ are you doing?’

She fixes him with a narrow-eyed look and Douglas adopts his best inscrutable expression.

‘I thought of a new rhyming journey that I just had to tell Martin.’

‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous.’

But she doesn’t press him any more – sensing, perhaps, that it would be futile – and Douglas gathers the remnants of his dignity about himself and bids her ‘Goodnight,’ as he turns on his heel and makes for his own room.

***

Douglas doesn’t get a moment alone with Martin until they’ve levelled out at twenty thousand feet and are cruising comfortably, at which point Douglas turns on the auto-pilot and looks over to catch Martin in the act of just looking away. It’s not the first time this has happened today, and Douglas says tentatively ‘About last night–’

‘Don’t bother,’ Martin says stiffly. ‘You don’t want to carry on with this, that’s fine. Don’t feel you have to do it gently, I’d rather you just told me upfront.’

‘I…’ Douglas is speechless, but rallies quickly. ‘No, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I was going to apologise.’

‘Apologise?’

Martin looks unflatteringly surprised and Douglas says ‘Yes. I’m sorry for pushing you; I hadn’t intended to force you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with. I just thought it might be something to try. Something new.’

‘To make things more interesting,’ Martin says, his throat turning an ugly, brick-red colour and his gaze fixed firmly on the instrument panel.

‘ _No_ ,’ Douglas says, on the verge of exasperation. ‘No, because you’re implying that I’m bored with you and I’m not.’

‘Then why–’

‘ _Because_ ,’ Douglas exclaims, a bit too loudly, before reining himself in.

‘Because,’ he tries, more calmly, ‘you’re so quiet. You never ask for anything, I never know if you’ve a preference one way or the other about what we’re doing.’

‘So,’ Martin begins slowly, ‘you want me to–’

‘No, that’s my whole point,’ Douglas interrupts. ‘It’s not just about what _I_ want, it’s also about what you want. I want to be sure you’re getting what you want. But you’re going to have to tell me, because–’ Douglas lets his tone become lighter, more teasing, ‘–telepathy is not among my many talents.’

‘Oh.’ Martin glances at Douglas before resuming his study of the instrument panel, the readings of which haven’t changed enough in the last five minutes to warrant the attention Martin is giving them. ‘I didn’t realise that that was why you wanted me to talk to you.’

‘Yes, well.’ Douglas only just refrains from rolling his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t, would you.’

Martin doesn’t reply and Douglas leaves him to mull it over; after a few minutes Martin comments on how blue the sea looks and Douglas is happy to let him change the subject.

***

That night, in Douglas’ flat, they start with the beginners’ class. Douglas hadn’t realised that Martin would take his comments quite so much to heart, but they’re kissing on the sofa when Martin pulls back slightly, licking his lips, and says ‘I want us to. Um.’

He flushes, astonishingly, given their relative positions, and Douglas uses his most encouraging tone to say ‘Go on,’ as Martin toys with Douglas’ shirt buttons.

‘I thought we could. You know. Go to bed.’

It’s so terribly sweet and innocent – as though they weren’t clearly headed that way anyway – that Douglas has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning in amusement.

‘I can’t _do_ this,’ Martin exclaims before Douglas can answer. ‘I just… how do you do it? How do you open your mouth and just _say_ those things?’

‘Well.’ Douglas strokes a thumb down Martin’s cheek. ‘Don’t try and jump in at the deep end. Come here.’ He untangles himself from Martin and stands, holding out a hand. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

In the bedroom Douglas gets Martin out of his clothes quickly and efficiently, not giving Martin too much time to feel self-conscious, before kissing him and coaxing him into bed. Douglas strips off his own clothes and follows, sliding a palm along Martin’s warm, bare waist, and he catches Martin’s arm with his other hand as Martin reaches over towards the lamp.

‘No,’ Douglas says, drawing Martin’s wrist to him and planting a kiss on Martin’s pulse point. ‘No. First step is leaving the lights on.’

‘But,’ Martin’s words are hesitant, watching Douglas lightly trail his mouth along the inside of his wrist and across his palm to nibble at his fingertips. His cock stirs against Douglas’ thigh as Douglas licks at the pad of his middle finger. ‘But I thought you liked them off.’

‘No,’ Douglas says thoughtfully, sliding the hand on Martin’s waist lower, to grip a hipbone, ‘I wouldn’t say that. I don’t _mind_ them off, and you seemed to want it that way rather badly so I didn’t mind humouring you. But given the choice I’d much prefer to see you.’

Martin makes no reply to that, and Douglas sucks lightly at the tips of Martin’s fingers, turning his focus back to the main event.

That night, for the first time since that night in Spain when Martin had been too tipsy to care, Douglas got to watch Martin come. He watched every little flicker of pleasure across Martin’s face, right up until the end when his expression crumpled as he arched and came over Douglas’ fingers.

‘How was that?’ Martin asks afterwards, almost shy, and Douglas catches his hand to twine their fingers together, pushing them against his cock so Martin can feel how hard he is.

‘Gorgeous,’ he groans and Martin smiles in shy satisfaction as he curls his fingers around Douglas.

The covers still stay primly up around their waists, though. Douglas had tried to tug them down when Martin had arched his spine in a way that indicated he wanted Douglas’ fingers in him, but Martin had clutched at the sheet when he felt it sliding down and Douglas let it go.

Douglas tells Martin what he wants as Martin works at him: requests and praise all jumbled together, and Martin strokes him tighter, faster, until Douglas gives a strangled noise and comes, fucking the slick circle of Martin’s grip.

***

Martin gets increasingly comfortable with leaving the lights on, and Douglas finds that the longer he spends winding Martin up with touches and caresses then the less Martin cares about the wretched covers as his world narrows to Douglas’ touch. After a while, an evening arrives where Douglas is fucking Martin, Martin’s legs around his waist and Martin’s hands clutching at his back as Douglas braces himself up against the bed. The sheet is still tugged up around Douglas’ waist: they’ve not been very athletic so far this evening, since Douglas had nuzzled into Martin’s ear that he was in the mood for a long, slow fuck and Martin had given a hitching little gulp and murmured assent.

They’ve been at it for a while, long enough for Martin’s eyes to slide shut and one of his hands to migrate from Douglas’ back down between their bodies to his groin. It takes a while for Martin’s inhibitions to sink low enough for him to start touching himself while Douglas fucks him and Douglas loves it when they do: it’s almost unbelievable how sexy he finds the feel of Martin’s knuckles rubbing low against his belly as Martin gets himself off.

But Douglas’ shoulders are starting to ache and he grunts ‘Hang on.’

He sits back, his cock sliding free of Martin and the sheet slipping down his back and off. Martin makes a noise of displeasure at this, and Douglas catches his hands as they flutter down to cover himself. As though Martin has even the _slightest_ shred of modesty left to preserve where Douglas is concerned, and Douglas doesn’t let him cover up but twines their fingers together and tugs at Martin.

‘Come here. Sit up.’

Martins lets himself be pulled up, and allows Douglas to position him how he wants: with Douglas sitting back on his heels and Martin straddling his lap.

‘Are you sure?’ Martin asks, flushed but with an endearing frown creasing his brows. ‘I don’t see how everything’s going to… fit.’

‘Well, it’s not the best position for me to pound you quite as hard as I know you like,’ Douglas says, just for the pleasure of seeing Martin bite his lip in mingled arousal and embarrassment at the graphic description. ‘But it has its advantages, all the same.’

Like the fact that it’s a terribly intimate position. Martin has to strain and tilt his hips to get the right angle for Douglas to penetrate him, his hands clutching at Douglas’ shoulders for balance, and Douglas grips Martin’s hips to support him and help him position himself. He fumbles blindly with his erection, trying to guide himself inside Martin without any visual cues to help, and then as he sinks inside he watches Martin’s face, sees his expression flicker with the first inward push.

‘ _Oh._ ’ This position means that things are tighter than they were before, and Martin’s fingers clench on his shoulders. ‘Oh _Douglas_.’

Douglas lets go of himself as Martin sinks onto him and wraps his arms tightly around Martin’s waist, steadying him. Like this then Martin is taller than him; Douglas isn’t used to having to tilt his face up to kiss Martin but the experience isn’t unpleasant. And when Martin breaks the kiss to gasp for breath then Douglas can tilt his head down to pay attention to Martin’s nipples. Keeping one arm tight around Martin’s waist, Douglas brackets his left nipple between thumb and forefinger and proceeds to lap and suckle at it until Martin has become downright _noisy_ and his movements in Douglas’ lap have grown erratic. Seated like this then the can’t get very far inside Martin – only the top few inches of his cock – and it’s on Martin to do the work of keeping their rhythm going.

‘Steady.’ Douglas breathes the word hotly against Martin’s nipple as Martin’s rocking undulations get more vigorous, and sure enough he slips free of Martin a second later.

Martin moans in frustrated arousal and Douglas coaxes his head back down for another kiss as he fumbles with himself and pushes back into Martin.

‘Slowly.’ Douglas suckles briefly at Martin’s lower lip and grips his arse, holding him steady for a small thrust up into him. ‘Like this.’

‘I can’t.’ Martin’s eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks scarlet. ‘Douglas, I _can’t_ , I need to… I want to…’

Martin’s cock – pressed tightly between their stomachs – is like steel, and he’s rubbed a slick patch against Douglas’ stomach.

‘You want to come,’ Douglas says to him, his voice almost a growl, and Martin nods wordlessly.

Douglas tightens his grip on Martin’s arse, guiding him into the small, slow rocking movements that will stimulate Martin without uncoupling them; it’s calculated to slowly drive Martin out of his mind, and after a few minutes of the gentle, maddening push-pull of Douglas’ cock in him then Martin moans loudly, despairingly, and wraps his arms around Douglas’ shoulders as he presses his cheek to the side of Douglas’ head.

Douglas kisses the smooth, freckled skin of Martin’s shoulder, not losing their languorous rhythm, and noses his way up to find Martin’s ear beneath his dishevelled hair.

‘What do you want?’ he breathes into Martin’s ear, loving Martin’s little quiver.

And then the next moment Douglas gasps as Martin’s mouth finds his ear, sharp teeth nipping lightly at his earlobe, before Martin whispers: ‘Fuck me. _Please_. Just… put me on my back and f-fuck me. I… I want to come.’

His voice is soft and hurried, as though he’s afraid of someone overhearing, and it’s certainly not the most inspired bedroom talk Douglas has ever heard, but progress deserves a reward and Douglas says ‘With pleasure,’ as he unwinds his arms from Martin’s waist. Martin doesn’t want to let go of him, however, and Douglas has to let himself slide free before Martin will pay attention when he mutters ‘Lie back down. Here, like this…’

While Martin positions himself Douglas reaches for the lubricant, smearing more onto himself and pushing sloppy fingers up into Martin, making him groan. He doesn’t want to leave Martin sore after this final part, and listening to Martin’s noises is just a bonus.

‘Here.’ Douglas grips Martin’s hips with slippery fingers and hauls them into his lap. ‘Breathe.’

Martin is panting but at the reminder he takes a deep breath and Douglas pushes into him on his exhale. _This_ is so much better: this angle means he can get deeper inside Martin, and Martin grabs at the headboard, his knuckles turning white as Douglas sinks into him until he’s pressed flush against Martin’s arse. Douglas hikes Martin’s knees over his shoulders and tries a few thrusts, watching as Martin’s mouth falls open and his moans start again.

‘Put…’ Douglas pants, and grips one of Martin’s thighs. ‘Put your feet down on the bed. Better angle for you.’

Martin obeys, clumsily letting his knees slide off Douglas’ shoulders and his spine curve into a deeper arch, but at Douglas’ next thrust he cries out and quickly raises his knees again.

‘I can’t,’ he gasps. ‘Oh God, I can’t, it’s too much.’

‘Alright, alright.’ Douglas lets go of Martin’s hips to help him lift his legs back over Douglas’ shoulders, rubs soothingly at a trembling thigh. ‘It was just a thought.’

He slides his hands under Martin’s arse, holding him in place while he thrusts again, and Martin all but _wails_ , writhing around as Douglas shoves steadily into him.

‘God, I fucking love watching you like this,’ Douglas pants, turning his head to bite kisses against the tender skin of the inside of Martin’s knees. ‘You’re so hard, and so wet.’

Martin only whimpers, sweat starting at his temples, and his hands flex and tighten on the headboard.

‘Touch yourself,’ Douglas says. ‘Go on. I can see how much you want to; I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long.’

One of Martin’s hands detaches from the headboard and migrates down, but gathers a handful of the sheet instead. Apparently touching himself under the covers, or with the lights out, when Douglas can only feel what he’s doing but not really see it, is an entirely different thing to doing it here, like this, splayed out so Douglas can see every slide and tug of Martin’s hand on himself.

Douglas looks down, past where Martin’s cock is lying stiff and flushed on his belly, down to where he’s sunk into Martin.

‘God, I wish you could see this,’ he says roughly. ‘You’re all wet with lube, and so tight around me. Watching you take me… Christ, it’s one of the fucking sexiest things I’ve ever seen.’

‘ _Douglas_ ,’ Martin gasps, sounding vaguely shocked, his knees giving an abortive little twitch as though he were thinking of closing them, but the next instant Douglas circles his hips and Martin’s loud noise is pure sex.

Martin holds out for a frankly impressive time, although at one particularly good thrust from Douglas he yanks at the sheet so hard that one of the corners comes untucked. But at last, when Douglas feels himself getting close and Martin’s knees have started shaking where they’re hooked over his shoulders, Douglas takes pity on him. He’d thought that this might be an occasion where he gets to see Martin come without a hand on him but apparently not, and so Douglas takes the hand that’s fisted in the sheet and threads his fingers through Martin’s. He drags their hands to Martin’s groin, wanting to get Martin off before he lets himself finish, but he’s barely fumbled their fingers around Martin’s cock before Martin almost shrieks and starts to come.

The spurts are strong – Martin spatters on his own chest and even gets some on the pillow – and Martin’s knees squeeze Douglas’ shoulders as he arches; his entire lower half seems to go rigid and clamp down around Douglas’ cock and Douglas groans loudly as he thrusts several more times into that tight heat and all but doubles over with the mingled pleasure and relief of orgasm.

He opens his eyes to Martin pulling their hands away from his cock, his chest heaving like a bellows, and Douglas automatically puts a hand on his stomach and says ‘Breathe.’

In truth Douglas isn’t much better himself but Martin nods, eyes still closed, and starts to take slightly deeper breaths, although Douglas can still see the small vibrations in his ribcage where his heart pounds. Douglas grips Martin’s thighs and helps him to lower them gradually to the bed, Martin’s limbs loose and shivery with post-coital exhaustion. He’s flushed right down to his chest, and Douglas looks at the streaks of come on his skin – and on the pillow – and can hardly believe that that’s all Martin. But as he shifts he can feel his own come inside Martin, making everything wet and sloppy as Douglas softens and starts to slip free of him, and Martin gives a little mewling gasp as Douglas moves backwards and pulls out of him.

‘Oh,’ Martin says, opening his eyes and blinking up at Douglas. ‘Oh _Douglas_.’

Douglas grins, his ego swelling, and lies down beside Martin. All his muscles feel shaky, as though he’s had a really good massage, and his mouth is dry. He leans down and kisses Martin.

‘How was that?’ Douglas sits back up and tugs the soiled pillow out from under Martin’s head. He strips off the pillowcase, and starts to clean them both up.

‘That was…’ Martin heaves a deep, shuddery sigh and rolls onto his side to face Douglas, shivering a little as Douglas swipes the wadded cotton over his stomach and between his thighs. ‘That was… rather amazing.’

‘Good.’ Douglas leans over the side of the bed to throw the pillowcase in the vague direction of the laundry basket and retrieve the bottle he’d set there earlier. He offers it first to Martin. ‘Water?’

Martin’s gaze sharpens greedily. ‘Oh God, yes please.’

Martin takes it and drinks, pulling thirstily at the bottle until about half of it is gone, and passes it to Douglas, who finishes it before setting it down and drawing Martin close.

‘I liked that,’ Douglas says, cuddling Martin against him and trying to pull the covers up one-handed. It’s awkward, and Martin’s clumsy attempts to help are actually more of a hindrance, but at last they’re both covered.

Martin makes a vaguely interrogative noise and Douglas clarifies: ‘You. Asking me for what you wanted. I liked that. Very much.’

‘Mmm.’ Martin stretches, sliding one leg over both of Douglas’ and pillowing his head on Douglas’ shoulder. ‘Good.’

Martin’s cheeks are redder than a fading sex-flush would account for, and so Douglas decides not to make a big thing out of it but rather to let Martin drift off to sleep.

***

Slowly, with falters and stumbles along the way, Martin gets into the habit of talking to Douglas during sex. It’s not much: generally it’s when Martin is about to come, face crumpled and toes curling, when he’ll reach for Douglas and stutter ‘Fingers, put… put your fingers in me’ or ‘Harder, God, _harder_ ,’ and Douglas will comply.

If Douglas doesn’t pick up on the first instance of his request then Martin won’t repeat himself, and he still doesn’t ask Douglas for anything in particular. Douglas tries hanging back when they’re in the initial stages, rather than peeling Martin out of his clothes and immediately starting to kiss his way down Martin’s body, but all that happens is that they end up kissing for what feels like ages, until they’re both achingly hard and Martin has started to grind his cock mutely against Douglas’ thigh.

Perhaps a greater incentive is required, and Douglas thinks he has just the idea.

***

It takes a while before the moment is right: an evening where they’re not flying and Martin hasn’t had so many van jobs earlier in the day that they’ll have left him too tired for sex.

‘What do you say to an early night?’ Douglas murmurs one evening, during an advert break when they’re both sitting on the sofa paying only desultory attention to the programme and Martin is resting a hand on his thigh, thumb stroking absently at the soft denim of his jeans.

‘Oh. Um.’ Martin squirms a little, bites his lip, and Douglas marvels at how their own private code for _go to bed early and shag_ has the power to evoke such a reaction from Martin.

‘Yes,’ Martin says. ‘But I just want to have a quick shower first. I didn’t take one this morning: the mould in my hotel bathroom was _horrendous_.’

This suits Douglas perfectly, since he needs a few moments alone to prepare things, and he kisses Martin and says ‘Right then. I’ll see you in the bedroom in ten minutes, then, shall I?’

‘Yes.’ Martin’s cheekbones pinken. ‘Yes, alright.’

‘Good,’ Douglas purrs, just to watch Martin duck his head and smile to himself as he gets up.

While the shower patters distantly Douglas locks up the flat, puts the leftovers from dinner in the fridge, and loads the dishwasher with their dinner plates. It’s much nicer cooking for two than for one, and Douglas finds himself humming under his breath as he moves about.

The shower shuts off, and Douglas opens the fridge to take out the punnet of strawberries he bought a few days ago and hid at the back of the fridge, in the smug knowledge that they were something that Martin loved but would never allow himself to buy. He rinses them briefly and dumps them into a bowl, before melting some dark chocolate in a separate bowl in the microwave. When it’s ready – and he judges that Martin has had enough time to get dried and get into the bedroom – Douglas takes both bowls through.

‘I thought we could try something different this evening,’ he says, setting them down on the nightstand.

Martin looks curiously at the bowls as Douglas turns away to undress. He drapes his clothes over the back of the chair – there’ll be time enough later to hang them up properly – and out of the corner of his eye he sees Martin stealing a strawberry.

‘Oi,’ he says. ‘None of that.’

‘Sorry,’ says Martin, not looking at all repentant with his lips wet with juice.

‘You’re not even doing it properly.’ Douglas slides into bed and intercepts Martin’s hand when he reaches for another. ‘Here, lie still.’

Martin subsides, sliding close to press warmly against Douglas from chest to knees, and Douglas stretches over to pick a strawberry and dip it in the chocolate. Martin reaches for it when Douglas brings it back but Douglas avoids his hand and murmurs ‘Open your mouth.’

Martin bites his lip briefly before complying and Douglas gently brings the strawberry close enough for him to bite. The fruit should still be cold from the fridge and the chocolate warm, and Martin chews and swallows with every sign of enjoyment.

‘Mmm.’

Martin licks his lips afterwards and Douglas leans down to kiss him. He keeps it brief, despite the temptation of Martin’s open mouth, and draws back to pick up another strawberry, dipping it in the chocolate again. Martin takes it more readily this time, his cheeks starting to flush a little, and Douglas glances down to see his cock starting to thicken against his thigh. He leans down to kiss Martin again once he’s swallowed, and this time he dips his tongue briefly into Martin’s mouth.

‘I like this way of eating strawberries,’ Martin murmurs, his voice low and husky with arousal. Douglas smiles at him, and takes a strawberry for himself.

‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ he says, ‘because that was the warm-up.’

He pauses while he eats it, giving the anticipation time to build, and by the time he speaks again Martin looks positively intrigued.

‘From now on,’ Douglas says, lying next to Martin and propping his head up on one hand, ‘you get a strawberry each time I kiss you.’

He pauses, until Martin says ‘And? It sounds marvellous.’

‘Ah yes. But…’ Douglas reaches over to get another one, just in case Martin needs the extra incentive of having it in front of him, ‘you’re going to have to tell me where to kiss you.’

Martin looks vaguely startled. ‘What?’

‘You heard. You can have this,’ Douglas twirls the stem of the fruit between his fingers, ‘once I’ve kissed you. And you have to tell me where.’

‘I… um…’

The chocolate is runny and Douglas has to quickly catch a drip with his tongue, licking one side of the fruit before it drips again.

‘Here,’ Martin blurts, and touches two fingers to his bottom lip. ‘Um, here. Please.’

Since the chocolate is ready to drip again Douglas opts to give Martin the strawberry straight away but he follows it up with the kiss immediately, sliding his tongue into Martin’s mouth and tasting strawberry juice and chocolate.

Martin’s hand settles on his neck; he tries to hold Douglas in place when Douglas makes to pull away but Douglas leans back, with a last fond lick to Martin’s lower lip.

‘Good,’ Douglas says. ‘Next?’

Martin silently touches his fingers to his mouth again and Douglas kisses him, making this one longer and dirtier. He strokes Martin’s forehead and rests his palm on Martin’s chest, and kisses him until Martin is breathing hard.

‘There,’ Douglas says. He glances down and sees that yes, Martin is fully hard now, but he reaches over for another strawberry and feeds it to Martin.

‘Next?’

‘Here,’ Martin says softly, hesitantly. He licks his lips and brushes his fingers over the pulse point in his throat, fluttering just under the skin. ‘Kiss me here.’

Douglas winds his fingers into Martin’s hair and encourages him to tilt his head back and bare his throat. He presses his mouth to the soft skin of Martin’s throat, closed lips at first and then open, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt-sweet of Martin’s skin until he can hear Martin’s breathing starting to unravel.

‘Excellent,’ he purrs, leaning back up and reaching for another fruit.

Martin takes it from his fingers delicately and chews. His eyes are cast down and he looks almost pensive; when he looks back up Douglas adopts his most encouraging expression.

‘I…’

‘Yes?’ Douglas tries not to sound too hawkish but Martin’s face is so flustered it’s impossible not to let his enthusiasm show. ‘Go on.’

‘Um…’ Martin’s white teeth nip briefly at his lower lip before he drops a hand to draw a thumb over a nipple. ‘Here.’

His voice is barely more than a murmur but he’s still there, still game, and Douglas slides down the bed to cover Martin’s nipple with his mouth. Martin’s body jolts at the first press of Douglas’ lips and tongue but Douglas holds steady, stays where he is, and laps across the soft rise of flesh. He bestows wet, suckling kisses on it, playing with the other one with wet fingers, until Martin’s fingers weave themselves tightly into his hair and Martin is arching up towards his mouth.

‘There,’ Douglas says at last, drawing back from it and smiling at Martin’s disgruntled noise. He gives it a last lush kiss, and releases it to slide up the bed and retrieve a strawberry.

Martin has barely finished the fruit before his hand drifts down, past his nipples; Douglas almost holds his breath in anticipation but at the last minute Martin seems to lose his nerve and his fingers settle on his stomach.

His cheeks pinken slightly; if Douglas knows him at all – which he flatters himself that he does – then Martin is doubtless thinking that it’s silly to be so coy about things given where this is clearly headed. But Douglas makes an approving noise and slides down the bed to press kisses to Martin’s stomach.

Martin is so wiry and thin that the small hint of softness at his stomach is delightful; Douglas nuzzles into it and drops kisses on it. He coaxes Martin to spread his legs so he can lie between them, and as he kisses Martin’s stomach Douglas lets the weight of his chest push against Martin’s erection, feeling Martin’s hips curl up against the pressure.

Douglas barely lifts his head this time before Martin reaches down again. Douglas makes to get up to retrieve the promised fruit but Martin doesn’t seem interested in it this time, as his knees tighten against Douglas’ ribs and he presses fingers to the crest of a hipbone and murmurs ‘Here.’

Douglas looks at Martin’s cock, lying just a few inches away on his belly, flushed dark with blood. But that wasn’t what Martin asked for, and Douglas is determined to stick to the letter of this game he’s started. In contrast to the lavish, nuzzling kisses he’d left on Martin’s stomach he keeps this one light and barely there. It’s more breath than touch, just the lightest teasing brush over Martin’s hipbone, enough to sensitise the skin, and Martin responds wonderfully to it. His hips shift and tilt up towards Douglas and Douglas smiles, drawing back until his breath just ghosts over the fine, pale skin.

Martin exhales sharply through his nose and shifts on the bed; before Douglas can withdraw to offer him the fruit Martin’s hand is sliding down again. Douglas bites his lip as Martin’s fingers near his groin, but at the last minute Martin loses his nerve again and they skate past his cock – erect and straining – to slide between his thighs.

‘Um… here.’ Martin’s voice is soft. ‘Here, please, would you?’

‘Of course,’ Douglas says, and dips his head. He presses Martin’s thighs further apart and mouths tender kisses along the soft, vulnerable skin there, gradually working his way higher until he’s kissing the skin just behind Martin’s balls where the mingled smell of Martin’s shower gel and his own scent combine to make Douglas’ mouth water. Martin starts to fidget after a while, and Douglas lifts his head to see Martin’s eyes squeezed shut.

They open when he registers the loss of Douglas’ mouth, and Douglas winds an arm around one of Martin’s thighs and presses lazy kisses to it as he waits for Martin’s next request. There’s only one place things can go from here, really, but Martin bites his lip and pets silently at Douglas’ hair until Douglas decides he needs a little encouragement.

‘Ask me,’ he murmurs, shifting to kiss along the crease of hip and thigh, so close to where Martin’s cock lies on his belly, the head darkly flushed and wet. ‘You can have it. Go on. Ask.’

‘I…’ Martin takes a deep breath as he slides his hand up and finally, _finally_ , curls his fingers around himself. ‘Here.’ He tilts his cock up away from his stomach, almost offering it to Douglas. ‘Here, please, kiss me here– _oh_.’

Douglas slides his mouth over Martin’s cock and down to the circle of his fingers in one easy move, and Martin’s hips jolt as rest of his request gets lost in a frantic gasp. His hand falls away but no matter, Douglas grips the base of Martin’s cock tightly and slides his mouth up and down on it several times, while Martin’s hands knead restlessly at the sheets.

Douglas doesn’t draw things out, but nor does he hurry. Long, steady pulls at Martin’s cock, with his tongue rubbing at the bundle of nerves under the head and pressing against his slit, until Martin’s breathing is in tatters and his thighs are quivering.

‘Douglas,’ he slurs. ‘Douglas. I want… please, will you… your fingers, here…’

And he reaches down to catch hold of Douglas’ hand, drawing it down between his legs. It’s perfectly clear what he’s asking for, but an imp of mischief makes Douglas say ‘ _Really_? My goodness. Well, if that’s what you want…’

And he pulls off Martin’s cock and uses his strength to shove Martin’s thighs up high enough for him to dip down and lick across Martin’s hole. Martin startles so hard at this that Douglas almost loses his grip on him, but Douglas tightens his hands and does it again, and again.

Martin’s hands clutch at his hair, but if his first gasp of ‘ _Douglas!_ ’ sounds shocked, then his second and third iterations sound increasingly like they’re a small step away from becoming moans. Encouraged, Douglas pushes at Martin’s thighs and firms his tongue enough to push it inside, but at this Martin’s hand clenches hard enough in his hair to make his eyes water and he rears back. Martin’s legs slip out of his grasp and his hips sink back down to rest on the bed.

‘You…’ Martin’s eyes are wide and shocked, and Douglas feels a surge of lust and possessiveness at the implications that he’s the first person to do this to Martin.

‘You liked that,’ Douglas says, arousal roughening his voice. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘You shouldn’t put your mouth–’

‘Never mind about should and shouldn’t,’ Douglas interrupts. He takes hold of Martin’s cock, pumping it slowly once or twice, pushing the foreskin up over the head and letting it slip back. ‘You liked that.’

‘Yes I did,’ Martin blurts, seeming too flustered and distracted by Douglas’ touch to dissimulate. ‘I really did.’

‘Good. Turn over.’

‘Oh God.’ Martin bites his lip again, cheeks flushing, and Douglas grips his hip and tugs it to show he means business.

‘Turn over,’ he insists, pulling harder, and when he presses his thumb against Martin’s slit Martin makes a despairing noise and does as he’s told. Douglas stuffs a pillow under Martin’s hips, shouldering his thighs apart while Martin is still adjusting his cock so that he can lie comfortably on the pillow, and spreads Martin’s buttocks apart with his thumbs before lowering his mouth.

‘Oh _Christ_.’ Martin hurriedly yanks at another pillow and buries his face in it, but Douglas can still hear his moans. He thinks about reaching up to steal it off Martin so he can hear him properly, but both his hands are happily occupied where they are and so he firms his grip and spreads Martin further, sliding his tongue wetly along the crease of Martin’s arse.

It quickly becomes clear that Martin, despite being a novice at this, utterly _loves_ it. His hips squirm in Douglas’ grasp and his moans get more and more frequent; Douglas licks at him sloppily, rhythmically, before pulling away to nibble gently at the sensitive skin of his buttocks, teasing him until Martin’s toes curl before going back to licking over his hole. After a while Douglas takes a hand away to shove it under Martin’s hips, awkwardly keeping him spread with one hand while he cups the other under Martin’s cock; the pillowcase is damp where Martin has been leaking into it, and the fabric clings to the back of Douglas’ knuckles.

Martin is so very hard; at the gentle cup of Douglas’ hand over him he twists his head to lift his face from the pillow and drag air into his lungs. Douglas rumbles his approval at him as best he can, and stretches a finger up to press it to the slippery-wet head of Martin’s cock, making Martin blurt out a desperate noise. It also makes him writhe, and Douglas’ mouth slips away from him as Martin arches and winds his fists in the pillows.

‘You’re going to have to help me out here,’ Douglas says, taking his hand away. ‘I need both hands to keep a grip on you.’

And so saying he grips Martin’s arse again, ignoring Martin’s bereft little groan. He focuses on what he’s doing, Martin’s buttocks flexing and tightening under his hands as Martin starts to grind himself down against the pillow, and after a couple of minutes Martin’s body lurches as he gathers himself and pushes up onto his forearms and knees.

His legs are splayed wide enough that going up onto his knees doesn’t make that much difference to his height, but it raises his hips up off the bed enough for him to work a hand beneath himself and start to touch himself, tugging at his cock with short, almost furious strokes until he stiffens and start to gasp ‘Ah… ah… ah…’

Douglas mashes his face harder against Martin as he comes, wanting to force more noise out of him than that, and Martin obliges, crying out hoarsely as his come spatters the pillow beneath him and his hole flutters erratically under Douglas’ mouth. His hand slows and eventually stops and Douglas gentles his touch accordingly, veering off to press soft, wet kisses to Martin’s skin. Martin’s legs are shaking under him and Douglas shifts back – with a last little mock-bite to the curve of Martin’s bum – and eases him down. He tugs the pillow out of the way so that Martin isn’t lying in the mess, and slides up the bed to run a hand along the sweaty skin of Martin’s back.

‘How was that?’

In truth Douglas hardly feels he needs to ask, given how utterly wrecked Martin looks, but he’d hardly be human if he didn’t enjoy the ego boost that came with listening to Martin pant incoherent words of praise. But this time Martin doesn’t turn over to sling a loose arm across Douglas’ chest and curl close; his face is still buried in the pillows and Douglas rests a hand on Martin’s nape.

‘Martin?’ Martin doesn’t respond to his touch and Douglas’ slight query deepens into concern. ‘Martin, look at me.’

He tugs on Martin’s hip, gently at first and then more determinedly, and Martin rolls over onto his back. His chest is still heaving but before Douglas can see his expression Martin flings an arm over his face. Douglas rests his palm lightly over Martin’s heart, feeling it leap and struggle against Martin’s ribs like a wild thing trying to escape, and drops a kiss on the point of Martin’s elbow placed so conveniently in front of his face. Martin doesn’t respond, and Douglas rolls his eyes and gently takes Martin’s wrist to lift his arm away, catching his other arm when he tries to cover himself with it.

Martin doesn’t try to pull himself free but he keeps his eyes closed, lashes making twin sweeps along his flushed cheeks, until Douglas kisses the inside of Martin’s wrist and murmurs ‘Much as I like your eyelashes, I think I’d prefer to see your eyes.’

Martin blinks at him, finally, looking not at all his usual post-coital self and Douglas frowns as his concern deepens.

‘Didn’t you like it?’ he asks, unease gathering low in his belly and killing his arousal. God, he’d been so sure that Martin was enjoying himself but if Martin had just been going along with what he thought Douglas wanted–

‘Yes,’ Martin exclaims. ‘Yes, of course I did. But you…’

‘Yes?’

‘I can’t believe that you… you just…’

This had started as a silly game, a light-hearted attempt to get Martin to see that the world wouldn’t end if he expressed a preference for one thing over the other, but Martin isn’t laughing any more and Douglas is very serious as he lets go of Martin’s wrist to stroke the backs of his fingers gently down Martin’s cheek.

‘Of course I did.’ Martin’s mouth is soft and blurry from kisses – and also doubtless from him biting at it to stifle his moans – and Douglas kisses him very softly. Talking about his emotions is on a par with a trip to the dentist for Douglas, but this is important and so he makes the effort and says ‘Look, I’m… fond of you. Rather a lot, actually.’ Douglas cups Martin’s face in his hand, brushes a thumb against the uncertain corner of Martin’s mouth. ‘There’s nothing you can ask me for that I won’t want to give you. Hadn’t you realised?’

Martin covers Douglas’ hand with his own, his eyes fixed on Douglas’ and his expression still so terribly serious. ‘I think I’m starting to.’

***

After that evening Martin seems to relax into their relationship more: a few more of his belongings start to migrate from his house to Douglas’ flat, and he’s less inclined to bristle when Douglas teases him. Douglas still finds himself gasping nonsense during sex, telling Martin how gorgeous he is, and how much Douglas wants him, and the resulting flush on Martin’s cheeks is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing. And Martin will be bolder, now: pushing Douglas’ hand where he wants it, or spreading his thighs wider and letting his hand rest on Douglas’ nape in a not-so-subtle hint at what he would like.

But the pinnacle, to Douglas’ mind, doesn’t come until a few months later when Martin is round at his flat for the evening. He’d made dinner and Martin had insisted on washing up, and now Douglas sits on the sofa with his book, only half-reading it while listening to the cosily domestic noises of Martin moving around in the kitchen and humming to himself in a surprisingly good voice.

At last the noises stop and a few moments later Martin wanders through, wiping his hands on his jeans. His hands are still flushed and damp from the heat of the water but Douglas hardly notices, being too curious about Martin’s face. Martin looks unusually serious, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth; he’s clearly working himself up to something and Douglas’ private suspicions are confirmed when Martin takes Douglas’ book gently out of his hands to lay aside before sinking into Douglas’ lap.

He sits astride Douglas’ thighs and Douglas loops his arms around Martin, clasping his hands comfortably in the small of Martin’s back.

‘I think,’ Martin begins, ‘I… I _want_ … for us to go to bed early, and… and have sex.’

‘Excellent idea,’ Douglas purrs at him, sliding his clasped hands higher to encourage Martin close enough to kiss.

Martin brushes a kiss across his mouth but draws back when Douglas tries to deepen it and adds ‘And.’

‘And?’ Douglas prompts, when Martin’s nerve seems to falter.

‘And. I want us to… to…’

Douglas kisses him again, and pushes his hands up Martin’s T-shirt to rub at his bare back.

‘Tell me,’ he breathes against Martin’s mouth, staying close enough to brush Martin’s lips with his own when he speaks.

‘I’m going to go and take a shower–’ Martin’s eyes are tightly closed, his breath shaky against Douglas’ mouth, ‘–and then I want you to… I want you lying on your back, with me sucking you while you’re eating me out.’

Douglas almost groans at the mental picture Martin conjures up, but he’s still speaking and so Douglas pecks a brief kiss on the corner of his mouth as a reward and listens as Martin continues: ‘And then when you’ve got me all wet, I want you to fuck me. I want to be on top, at first, because I love having your hands on me while you’re fucking me.’

At this point Douglas slides his hands down to grip Martin’s waist, a little foretaste of how he’s going to be holding him later while Martin squirms astride his hips.

‘But at the end, right before I come, I… I want you to…’

‘Don’t stop.’ Douglas kisses him again when Martin falters, strokes his lean sides. ‘You’re doing so well, don’t stop now. Tell me.’

‘I want you to roll me over.’ Martin’s face is scarlet now, his eyes still tightly shut, and the rest of his words are a quick embarrassed mutter into Douglas’ mouth. ‘Roll me over and pound me hard. I love feeling you fucking me when I’m coming.’

Martin falls silent and Douglas kisses him immediately, licking his way into Martin’s mouth and tugging Martin’s hips forward so that their groins push together and Martin can feel how hard Douglas is just from listening to him.

After a while Martin leans back.

‘How was that?’ he asks, sweetly self-conscious, and Douglas pushes his hand down the back of Martin’s jeans for a shameless grope of his bum.

‘ _Marvellous_ ,’ he says, his grin echoed in the smile creeping across Martin’s face. He brushes his fingers along the crease of Martin’s buttocks and loves the tiny shiver of anticipation this provokes. ‘In fact I couldn’t have said it better myself.’

**End**


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